


Insanity

by Emmalou_muse



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Discussion of Death, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury, My First AO3 Post, Stream of Consciousness, description of injury, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmalou_muse/pseuds/Emmalou_muse
Summary: What does someone think about as they're dying? What would someone deteriorating into madness think about as they're dying?





	Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time posting something, so any and all constructive criticism is welcomed. This story shows the last laments of a slightly insane person. There's discussion of death (not just hers) and some injury description, but nothing is too graphic - at least not to me. Enjoy!

I’m slowly deteriorating into nothing but insanity. 

Everyone I love is gone, my friends, my family. No one knows who I am, no one cares. I watched so many people die, I’ve killed people. My friends are all dead, I’ll get to join them soon. That thought circles my head as I feel warm blood pooling around my hand - “I’ll get to join them soon.” 

I can’t remember who attacked me, does it even matter anymore? No one will notice when I die, no one will mourn me or hold any kind of service for me. What does it matter then who dealt the killing blow? I certainly don’t care anymore, I just want everything to be over. 

Before, I used to wonder what it would feel like to die - would I feel scared, sad, would I be in indescribable pain? I thought that I would be crying at the very least, sad to say goodbye to the world. Perhaps someone would be sitting beside me - also crying - and one of us would be reassuring the other that everything would be okay. Now though, as I truly am dying, there is no fear or sadness, no pain and no tears. Certainly, no one beside me and there will be no reassurances. I feel numb, empty, staring up at the ceiling waiting for my heart to stop is certainly a particular feeling that no one could imagine without going through it, but it is not bad. 

Perhaps I’m wrong, and I should be crying or at least feel something other than some twisted sense of relief and satisfaction. I’m sure other people would be trying to see if there was still a chance of being saved. Or if they had already resigned themselves to death, they would be worrying about how people would react or anything they left unfinished. Who knows, they might even be praying to some higher power for a little longer, or for a nice afterlife. I, however, am not like most people. 

Remember how I mentioned earlier that I am devolving into insanity? This includes not feeling much of anything anymore. If you hit me I will not yell out, and if you give me a gift I will not smile. Everything happens for a reason and everything happens for no point at all. That’s the rule I’ve been living by for the last year or so, and it’s worked out well. On second thoughts though my definition of “well” is somewhat warped. I’m laying here bleeding out and I find this to be fine, so maybe don’t trust my opinion. Where was I going with this again? Right, feeling nothing, maybe that is why I find my current predicament alright - I no longer have enough wits about me to consider otherwise. I find that most people who have been through the same as I often experience some form of mental deterioration, so I am not special. 

I have never been special, never done anything extraordinary. No, my friends were special though, some of the things they did were thought impossible. It never sat right with me that they all had to die before I did. Why would the world want to be left with me and not them? It failed tremendously. Especially seeing how after the last one of them left, I stopped doing anything and everything. Some people would push themselves to ensure that the deaths weren’t in vain, that there was still good to be done. Again though, I am not some people. 

Everything happens for a reason and everything happens for no point at all. Why did my friends die when I did not - still unclear. So why should I keep fighting when my friends cannot - also unclear. You may argue that this lack of motivation comes from the trauma bound to losing those closest to you, but I argue that I simply stopped caring about everyone else. I didn’t know any of them, why should I fight for them? The only reason I did so before was because of my friends. They were heroic and never hesitated to help anyone, not even when faced with imperious danger. I was never as selfless, never as caring. I would not go as far as to say that I am selfish though, there are far more selfish people out in the world that I have met. 

Did I get off topic again? Did I even have a topic? My mind is wandering and you must excuse me. It has been getting worse lately, but I can usually still remember my original point. However, the side effects of death must be setting in. My skin feels cold, colder than usual, and the picture of the ceiling is getting blurred. My limbs feel stiff and my mouth is dry, the only true thing I can still feel is the blood gushing up from my body. I didn’t know there was that much blood inside of me, or that this much could leave my body and I could still be breathing, albeit with difficulty.

In an unusual rise of emotion, I feel remorse for all the others I have left to bleed out. Others that most likely still had fully functioning emotions. If I still believe in jinxes - I’m not too sure what I believe most days - then you could say I just jinxed myself. I can feel my breathing grow shallower and my heartbeat is slowing down. My head feels light yet at the same time heavy and stuffed with cotton. 

“This is what death feels like” I whisper to the innocent child that I buried deep inside of me years ago, not even sure if it’s still alive. Has anything inside me been alive for the last little while? All of the questions I ask myself seem to have the same answer, unsure. 

I’m choking now, why is that? I swore I was fine just a minute ago. Am I shaking too? Everything is happening too fast now, and there is a little tickle that reminds me too much of that horrendous emotion, panic. I try to feel numb again because feeling numb is much nicer than feeling whatever all this is. It doesn’t work, not entirely. I can still feel, but I’ve accepted it and that in its own way is numbness. 

Were you hoping for a more dramatic ending? Perhaps a better beginning. Or a more entertaining story than my mess of thoughts and views on the world. I hate to disappoint you, and I would say I’m sorry, but as we’ve gone over, emotions aren’t my forte. The sick sense of satisfaction and relief is back again. A laugh tries to work it’s way past the blood coating my throat. I’m insane, and I’ll get to see them again, I’ll get to join them. My last thought as I draw my last breath.

I’ll get to join them.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone did read this then I would love to know what you thought. I also love ego boosts so comments would be fantastic :P. Again, all constructive criticism is welcome, I would love to write and post some more works, but I'll see how this one is received first, and how to get better at writing. Thank you for reading, have a fantastic day and stay happy and healthy!


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